Maltara, God of Disease

Major Domains: Disease, Recovery, ConstitutionMinor Domains:Weeding out the weak, Anatomy, CarrionTotem Animal/Warform: Great Lizard/Monitor Lizards (The Warform is composed of Stone, Wind, Lightning and gems)

Favored Appearances: Maltara tends to walk the world rarely, and when he does it is an ill tiding among many of the peoples of Kasan. Were he travels, disease and death follow, and many do not survive his presence. Those who do describe a particularly horrifying form. His hair is falling out in great patches on his head, leaving the rest of it a patchwork of short dark hair and scabs. His wide, flat face is covered in rashes and blisters, his bloodshot eyes bulge from his head, his teeth are rotten and his breath fetid. The skin on his arms and legs split, oozing a viscus type of ichor that slides down and drips from his fingers and lingers in his footprints. coughs punctuate his sentences and breaths, spreading his captured diseases. His body, no matter the outward signs that it should be on deaths door, is fit and strong. His callused fists are hard as bone and the arms are muscular enough to do significant damage with them. His legs easily gobble up the land in long, powerful strides and grant him surprising agility for a person in his condition.

both forms have the same basic appearance, though he walks the world as a human in his female form and as a halfling in his male. In both forms his preferred garment is that of the robe of his priesthood, a brilliant green and bone. When trying to pass undetected, he walks with the hood up and quietly, though his coughing breaks through. When embodying a plague to walk the lands, he walks with the cowl down, his brilliant yellow eyes betraying his diseased Nature.

Personality: Despite all his appearances and the suppositions many have about him, Maltara is a jovial being. He enjoys talking the finer points of the merits of civilization, the best methods of recovery from illness, and how best to stave off an early grave. Pleasant and charming though he is, he is relentless in his pursuit of a better and stronger world, as he sees it. He desires to infect the world with all the plagues that he can create and foster, so that only the strong survive to worship him. He is ruthless to those he feels are weak, however, and feels no pity or mercy when they die or fail, doing his best to expedite it whenever possible. He does this, as one would expect, through a series of diseases, set up in an order that tests every possible angle of weakness and vulnerability. Those who approach him and survive this ordeal become his most chosen servants. Those who do not are discarded, dying a miserable and terrible death.

Teachings: The body is the door to the soul, and the soul must be strong in order to prevail in this terrible world. You cannot expect the world to be kind to you, so you must be unkind to it back. Maltara is both the god of diseases and the god of recovery from disease, so it is in his ultimate control over who lives and dies from his disease. Most times, however, he will leave it up to your body to determine your fate, and if you were young, old, or infirm, it is extremely likely that you will perish. This is done to make the world a stronger place, one where disease is all pervasive but everyone is strong enough to fight it off.

Abode: Maltara lives in the Deep Fens, on the border with the Accursed territory of the Iron Marches. His army of hearty soldiers and strong, disease ridden veterans are the front line in the battles against the Accursed. Maltara takes a very specific pride knowing that, many times, it is simply him and his hand picked warriors standing between the Accursed and the complete annihilation of the Paltonarchs.

Clergy: The Clerics of Maltara tend to the ill and dying, watching over them when their families will or cannot. Though their god may not assist the diseased, he has no problem with his clerics taking his recovery aspect of his portfolio to heart. What does not kill one, only makes them stronger. Many of his clerics are immune to the plagues that wash over the land, having been exposed to them many times over, though they also tend to breath out the very corruption they seek to save in others. As carriers and healers, they function ans the perfect vessel of paradox as their master. Most Churches of Maltara are located well outside of the towns and cities they serve, keeping their deathly services far from the population at large.

Knightly Orders: The Contagion Legion is a strong and powerful warrior cult centered on the Malataran principle of hearty constitution and infection. The order seeks out orphans and trains them riggorusly in the ways of a strong body, and then when they are strong and fit enough, they expose them to the myriad of contagions that they harbor. Those we are weak either die or are exiled, and In their weakened condition, many of even those who survive to be exiled perish. Those strong enough are welcomed into the legion and are sent on missions vital to the god of Blight.

Clerical Attire/colors: The Clerics of Maltara prefer to wear the colors of their god, a simple and vile green color that evokes illness and bile. These clothes are often trimmed in a bone and cream color around the wrists and cowl, along with parallel stripes running down the center of the chest. Additionally, at the highest of ranks, they will pierce their tongue with a shortened nail to show their dedication to the god. Many die, but those who live are the most vaunted of priests.

Followers: Most of Maltaras followers are priests, able to hold disease at bay or even be completely immune to it. There are a few barbarian tribes and warrior cultures who worship disease, but they are few and far between.

Holy Symbol: A white medallion, with a single cresting wave in the center.

Favored Appearances: Driim is a solitary man, not prone to visiting the material world. However, when he decides to visit, it is generally to wander quietly, escaping the chaos of the Iron Marches.

In his male form, he is round and smooth, a hairless and harmless man. His face is round, with even rounder features. his bulging eyes are creamy white, as if blind, though he seems to see just fine regardless of the light quantity or quality. His cheeks are prominent and round and has a bulbous, pockmarked nose. His chin is swallowed up in his neck, the rolls of fat nearly obscuring it. He wears a meticulously cleaned large, single piece hooded robe, a light nearly white blue. His hood is pulled over his head, his arms crossed within its enormous sleeves and the waist tied under his bulging belly with a white dyed rope. He speaks in riddles and puzzles, as though he knows a great deal more than he lets on. When pressed, he may speak succinctly, but it is never his preferred form and is almost always caustic.

His female form is only slightly less offensive, though this time it pulls in the opposite direction. Still clothed in the blue-white robe, She is hairless and emaciated, bony arms jutting out at sharp angles, with a skeletal face and the same milky white eyes, this time sunk deep into her eye sockets. Her nose is long and also pockmarked, and an angular chin cuts her face sharply off. When she speaks, her fetid breath wafts out, lending all of her speech a final, deathly air.

Personality: Driim is dry and boring, though he loves to deceive people into making a fool out of themselves, calling his mischief simple tricks. Those who are deceived by them are obviously to easily duped. He speaks in riddles and obfuscation, tying his sentences into knots for other to unravel. When crossed and tricked himself, he easily and causally tosses dreadful curses at those who have wronged him, bringing ruin and suffering onto them and their family. He cares not about the collateral damage that he commits, finding it simply the justice that they have brought onto themselves. At his very best, he is secretive and closed. At his worst, he is a devastating deliverer of undeserved curses and unearned misfortune

Teachings: Driim teaches that the world is a dark and terrifying place, and that even in the light of day, there are those who are betrayers and turncoats around every corner. Fool them, make them look like what they truly are. Curse them so that their deeds will reap the repercussions that they so rightly deserve, and keep your secrets dear, for only that which you tell no one is truly safe.

While this seems to embrace a certain state of paranoia, there is an underlying current in the teachings that make it known that these people should be exposed, and that they should, at any chance, be forced into admitting their faults. The moons are always around and know the absolute truths. What they know, Driim knows. Swearing to the Moons is still held to be the most binding of oaths, even though he is an accursed.

Abode: Driim lives in the White Sanctuary, a castle made of marble and alabaster deep within the Accursed territory in the iron marches. Here, his legion of slaves cleans the corrosion of the plane from his walls, scouring away at them night and day. His dedication to maintaining his colors even here is fanatical, even though her rarely entertains visitors.

Cultists: The Cultists of Driim are dour, sour folk who are known to spew curses and diatribes against those who have wronged them. They stick to the edges of society, seldom forming into groups, afraid to reveal their secrets to anyone, even each other. They do like to commit little tricks to flummox the towns and cities they live in, and some towns are said to be moon cursed if they experience to many of these ill fortunes. a Coven of Moon Cultists will conspire to bring down the leader of their town or city, citing him as a false leader and aspiring to replace him with one of their own. They keep well to the shadows, however, secreting their allegiance and their ultimate goal.

Clerical Attire/colors: Simple blue-white robes and clothes are preferred, though they are not required. Some prefer to wear a simple moon disk, but many times they will have the holy symbol on the reverse of an expected and well revered church in the area, as well, defacing and desecrating the symbol.

Followers: Thieves and Wizards, along with Warlocks and barristers all can gravitate towards the worship of Driim. Sometimes, political leaders will fall in with the worship of Driim if only to stay in power and not be supplanted, though it is inevitably only a matter of time.

Favored Appearances: Conadral is a small, hawklike person in both of his favored aspects, and prefers to blend in rather than be noticed. His male form is of average height, around 5’8″, and of an average build. His eyes are a fierce ice blue and set within an a fairly feminine and angled face. His brow is high, as is his cheekbones, but his aquiline nose is his most prominent feature. He keeps his blond hair close cut and is clean shaven at all times. He will generally take the form of a human, but is equally known to be found in elven form.

His favored Female form is that of a human almost exclusively, and looks very similar to the male form, except for the slightly more feminine form and features. The same close cut blond hair, the same ice blue eyes and the same nose. Though many gods forms could be construed as family members, Conadrals forms are as close to twins as it gets. Both forms carry longbows and are excellent shots and hunters as well.

Personality: Conadral lives and breathes for freedom and justice, though he sees much more value in the less combative ways of achieving those goals than his brother Takannas. Instead of violently opposing those who he views as oppressing others, he seeks to educate and elevate those who are being oppressed – a different side of the same coin. He enjoys nothing more than the freedom to do whatever whim strikes him, be it fly the skies, bed a beautiful person, or teach the peasants on a barons farm to read. However, he strives continuously not to step on other peoples freedoms when exercising his own. He values even the most loathsome persons right to do what they want as long as others aren’t harmed int eh process. To many, Conadral is the patient and wise god, one who’s council is sought on many occasions and highly regarded.

For all his values, however, he is a terrifying fighter, a warrior and consummate fighter who has taken the field thousands of times against the demon armies of the Accursed. When all else fails, violence is a completely acceptable answer and it can, and should, be pursued to its fullest end once evoked.

Teachings: The god of the Skies teaches to be open and willing to receive both knowledge and wisdom from all sources, and to be part of the solution when problems arise.. Be a leader in your community and world, break down the barriers between people and create freedom and openness for all. Each day, each cycle, is an opportunity to go out and make a difference in the lives of those around you. Be mindful, however, of their freedoms, and do not overstep your bounds. Offer to help, but take a step back when your help is not needed. Be the person who all can turn to for advice, but tread that knife edge carefully, do not become vainglorious and self-assured. Be humble when leading, and look deeply at the consequences before acting.

Abode: Conadral lives in the Flying Citadel, a simple fortress of ice and wind on an enormous cloud. He can guide it where he is needed most, and his army of flying warriors can descend into a battle to take the fight to the enemy from above. Said to have a hundred spires each with a hundred rooms, it is thought by some to have been created from cloudstuff solidified by elven mages on Kasan and then transported somehow to the Iron Marches for him to live in and wage war from.

Clergy: Clerics of Conadral tend to be a semi-wandering lot, though they will sometimes stay for six or seven years in a single location before moving on. They attempt to inspire and educate the many people that they come across, and when they find somewhere that direly needs their attention, they will set up a permanent abode and live with that community until there is such a time as they feel they no longer rely on him. At that time, he will recruit a young and promising apprentice and move on, leaving the apprentice that had shown up in town with to tend the flock until he, too, feels the call of other lands.

Knightly Orders: One of the great organizations on Kasan, the Blue Knights of Conadral are both feared and revered. They accept only volunteers to their esteemed company, and many are rejected for lack of skill, intelligence and compassion. While they were originally founded to protect sacred sights to the God of the Skies, they have transformed into a powerful fighting force. While they do live, study and train in high peaks and great open plains, they are approachable by any to plead their cause. those causes that are found to be the most worthy and beyond reproach by the High Marshall of the abbey are rewarded with a company of Blue Knights, each supposedly worth more than a hundred other warriors on the fields.

Clerical Attire/colors: Conadrals colors are cream and brilliant blue, and his priests wear little other than a tunic and britches made of the brightest blues, trimmed and rimmed with cream. Many of the highest clerics wear brilliant white caps of various complexity and ornateness to show their status and stature within the church.

Followers: As with the four other elemental gods, Condaral has a broad appeal to mages, warriors and priests. He is also the patron of many craftsmen and merchants for his self-reliance, and to a strong number of peasants and commoners due to his specific teachings.

Totem Animal: Hyena (The warform is composed of Wind, Lightning and clouds)

Holy Symbol: A simple, left-curving bone Claw or Fang, sometimes with a background of deep green.

Favored Appearances: Xe is a wild and unkempt creation, and both his forms display that lack of regard for personal hygiene and his inability to care for himself in any way. His male for is that of a ragged and tattered elven man, Long past the point of deprivation. He wears old, tattered leggings, stained with blood and dirt. Shirtless, his skin is drawn tight across his rib cage, creating a horrid, nearly starved look. his black, greasy hair reaches well past his shoulder blades, and hang loose, creating a disgusting mane. The skin around his face is tight, creating an almost skull like effect, with his eyes are sunk deep in his head, his lips pulled back to show yellow, rotten teeth. Thankfully, he chooses an elven form, as his facial hair is light and sparse but coarse. The only sign of even the barest hint of intelligence beyond his breeches are the articulated metal gauntlets that end in great bone claws in place of his amputated final digits on his fingers.

His female form is of the same gaunt stature and taken care of in the same neglectful manner, though generally takes the form of a female human instead of elven, for reasons known only to Him. Her hair is more flat, lying along her back as if it has just stormed, and a vivid brown. Her eyes are a fiery green, where his are only pools of darkness. She too, is gaunt, with features marred by the singular lack of any signs of health. Its as if Xe stayed a single night, death would come in the night from starvation.

Personality: Xe is the wildness and the ruthlessness of nature, combined with the uncaring and violent destruction of storms all wrapped into one package. He is almost completely alien, even to the other Paltonarchs and Accursed. Many wonder if Xe even has intelligence, though those who know him are keenly aware that even if it is not intelligence, its the vicious cunning of a predator. He is wild and quick to anger, though swift also to forget and let those who wronged him moments before approach. He holds no grudges, and does not despair when those around him perish or fail. He is the uncaring claws and fangs of the universe, and he loves it.

Teachings: Xe does not teach through priests and doctrine, but by example. He hunts only enough to barely satisfy his hungers, but he will kill those he finds dangerous or who confront him. He tolerates other predators within his same space, but only as long as they respect his boundaries. Those who are strong, in times of need, take what they can from the week, but not simply because they can, but to survive. There is also strong reverence for the ferocious, untamed and wild beasts of all types, as they are the most free creatures in the universe. They live only to eat, to kill and to pass on their legacy; and that is what Xe Stands for.

Abode: Xe lives in no man made, or god made, structure. He wanders the bleak and desolate places of the Iron Marches, sleeping in caves and under the cover of trees. A simple and violent entity, his existence is one constantly on the edge of annihilation, staving it off one day at a time.

Cultits: The Cult of Xe is one that has no internal structure or strata; there are simply equals among the wilderness of existence. Those few who follow him ask him for guidance in the hunt, to find enough to eat to stave off death for but a single day. Living squalid lives in caves, caverns and ruins, these cultist are a scourge on any society they live near, killing and eating whatever is vulnerable.

Clerical Attire/colors: The natural colors of golden grass, dark, rotting vegitation and the black clouds and earth are the colors of Xe.

Followers: Few Follow Xe, though many are warriors and rogues. Rangers of a particularly vile bent may also worship him. Few Dwarves connect with the lord of savage wilderness, though many feral spirits and fey do.

Favored Appearances: Evalrun is the god of the earth, and favors dwarven and orcish forms. He considers both races to be his chosen, and though they often fight, he sees nothing wrong with it. His male form is that of a robust, dark, and taciturn dwarf. Broad and flat of feature, he is unexceptional in size and stature. His hair is black as night and curled tight on his head, and his rough beard drapes down to his chest, braided and adorned with golden trinkets. His skin is dark brown, and his eyes are black. He does not speak often, but when he does it is a low and rumbling sound from deep within his chest.

The Female form is generally an Orc, who’s prowess and strength is obvious. She is large, even for a female Orc, towering almost 7′ tall and boasting a muscular, broad physique. Her skin, too, is brown, though of a warmer, more woody hue. Her features are round, with high cheeks, a large pair of canines, and a prominent chin. Her hair is gray, tied up in a topknot as is the custom. She talks in nearly the same rumbling base as her male form, commanding all those around to listen and hear her opinion.

Warform: The Father of Earth’s warform is that of a scorpion of onyx and basalt, hard and impossible to break. His pincers are edged with obsidian, his stinger tipped with diamond to pierce even the strongest of armors, yet dripping with a venom that can dissolve flesh and eat through steel. Between each edge and plate of stone chitin are wedged hundreds of gemstones, glittering with opulence as he moves and securing his only weakness withe the strength of the earth itself.

Personality: While Takannas, the most vocal and outwardly strong of the four original gods, is currently in charge of the war effort against the Accursed and is therefore in de-facto charge of them, Evalrun yearns for the day that he will rule the gods. He is the long game, slow and plodding, with deliberate, strong, forceful action. He seeks the complete submission of the gods to his will, but is unable to attempt a coup, for fear of loosing all he has to the accursed. Other gods are wary of his dominating, powerful personality, but none can deny his wealth and power. He holds, within his fastness in the Bloody Mountain, infinite riches, but also the greatest desire of yours that you can think of. He often uses this as a powerful bargaining chip, and when the war with the accursed comes to an end, many gods will have to make hard, difficult decisions.

Teachings: Evalrun teaches a very slow, deliberate, grinding form of living and progressing in life. Nothing comes easy, and nothing comes quickly, and instead you must work long and hard to achieve your goals. This is especially true with the accumulation of wealth, which Evalrun deems in the highest regard. He favors and blesses long schemes with little risk and commensurate, yet predictable returns. he also teaches the earths superiority over all things. without it, there would be none of the others. What would Fire burn? What would water be contained in? What would air stand above? Earth, and the earth priests, and those who worship Evalrun are the true inheritors of power and the true, rightful rulers of the earth. All others are pretenders who should be slain. After a long, destabilizing, risk-free campaign against their powers, of course

Abode: The Bloody Mountain is a vast mountain of black saphires stretching thousands of feet into the sky of the Iron Marches. Within lives Evalrun, and its halls overflow with treasure of all kinds. Here the Justice Hall of the Gods stands, Kelbrech, where each and every one can state their accusations, hear their accusers, and beg for lenience, even though none is ever given. Here is where the Paltonarchs swore their undying vengeance against the Accursed, vowing to hunt each and every one to the ends of the universe.

Clergy: The Clergy of Evalrun are often bankers and judges, doling out unfettered, maximum penalties and storing others money. They teach that wealth is the way to power, and power lets you influence and change the world. War, though undesirable and unprofitable, can lead to sudden change when needed, but the slower, more methodical ways of achieving power are almost always prefered.

Knightly Orders: The Obscurim are a circle of mages and sorcerers dedicated to the magic of earth and darkness. They worship Evalrun as the god of both, though they are less interested in wealth and slow moving plans than he is. These battlemages take to the field to destroy and crush the enemies of their patrons and their own causes. Some, and by far the less numerous, are simple mercenaries who offer their services and skills to those who can afford them and their great power. By far the largest sect, however, are those that offer their services that they see alignment with, but at a price. While their reasons for aligning with any given cause are shrouded in secrecy, they are well known, and their price, though high, almost always guarantees victory and is just as often paid.

Clerical Attire/colors:The basic clerics of the god of earth wear simple black robes trimmed in deep purple. As a cleric attains wealth and status, however, he adds to that rings, earings, brooches and other conspicuous signs of wealth to show both power and rank. The greatest priests sometimes wear enough jewelry and gems to buy small countries.

Followers: Evalrun tends to attract dwarves who admire his thrift, and orcs who admire his lust for power. Rogues and Mages are attracted to the god of night, with the power to obscure, confuse and completely hide one that is greatly desired.

Favored Appearances: Rashban is an aloof and detached woman, but easily the greatest fighter that the Accursed have at their call. Once a god of water, she is now the perfect foil to the Fire Families war gods. As such, she is nearly always armed and armored when encountered in either form, and is of strong build and powerful frame.

In her Female form, she is of average height, never topping 5″10″ and of a physique that suggests working for her living all her life. Her curly blue-black hair flows down to her shoulders and seems to pile up on them in pools. Her eyes are crystal blue, almost white, set in a round, expressive face. Frown lines are nestled deep in her cheeks and her face seems to rest as a simple scowl. what little joy that there is in life, she seems to never encounter it. She wears supple and light leather armor, dyed a deep and shimmering cerulean blue. When she knows that she will be in battle, she wears a leather helm that covers her entire face, eyes and all, using her other senses and her abilities as an Accursed to fight.

Her form as a man is only slightly different, favoring that of a Dragonborn over all others. Massive, scaled and deep blue, he is often mistaken for the spawn of a blue dragon, though nothing could be farther from the truth. He wears no armor and no shirt, simply a pair of trousers dyed pitch black. his face is stoic and unknowable, able to hide even the most obvious of thoughts within his scaled and myterious face. His eyes are dark, almost black, with no whites or pupils, simply orbs of darkness set in his angular, sharpened skull. He is covered in nautical tatoos and scars, showing his attachment to the rivers and seas

Warform: The Warform of the Accursed of Rivers is a Crocodile, massive and covered in scales of Ice and salt. The teeth are massive and made of ice as well, but contained within the scales is a rushing river of churning water. Little escapes the jaws of this massive fighter once engaged, and though the form is bulky, it is surprisingly agile with impressive speed when needed.

Personality: Rashban is a stern, dour woman who has few friends and less confidants. A member of the water family, she tends to be truthful, honest and direct, and sees little value in deceit and duplicity. She laughs little, and sees the world through the grim lenses of the absolute truth, as it is to her. What she believes once, she will believe almost indefinitly, and it takes many arguments to convince her otherwise. She is a strong companion, however, and will commit to any action asked with the full and strong belief that she can, and will, accomplish the task. She believes that she will die in battle on the Iron Marches, slain at the hands of one of the Fire Gods, but she believes that when, not if, that happens, it will be at the turning point of the war, when she alone accomplishes whatever mission is critical and vital to the victory of the Accursed.

Teachings: Rashban is a stern, unbending woman, and what she values in herself and others is the inability to change, the suborn dedication born of knowing ones correctness and place in he world. She also takes a stern view on those who go out of their way to try and change their place in the world seeing it as a violation of the natural state of things and the proper balance of the universe. Hold the course, stay the line, and don’t break. Never second guess yourself, and know that what you set out to do can always be accomplished.

Abode: The Drowned Stronghold sits at the bottom of a river of mercury in the darkest recesses of the Accursed held area of the iron marches. Magical barriers keep the mercury out, while the fortress itself is filled with brakish, dark water. Few people walk these halls, but those who do are the grim and dire guardians and companions of the Accursed of Rivers.

Cultists: Those who are drawn to the cult of Rashban tend to be those obsessed with the rivers and the fate that she holds over those who traverse them. They call themselves the Floodbringers, and they see themselves as a very important part of cycle of all things. They wander up and down rivers, scouting out places that are especially vulnerable to flooding, and pray there for the power and mystery of their god to wash away the town and all its terrible inhabitants.

Clerical Attire/colors: The colors of the Accursed of Rivers are simple river colors, with grays and blues of all colors in favor. They tend to wear flowing robes with wide, voluminous sleeves and hoods. the colors tend to be sown in a swirling pattern, and sometimes even are patchworks of other colors all strapped together.

Followers: Rashban tends to gather followers who live within her rivers; Ferrymen, fishermen, and travelers, but also attracts runners, athletes and conservative philosophers.

Favored Appearances: Gestril favors neither sex nor race when appearing on the prime, and has come to the aid of many. Oftentimes, he appears as a member of the race of those he has come to assist, and of the opposite sex, though he looks almost the same except for the small details of his race.

In male form his is large, broad shouldered and wide of girth, though not fat. He has a sharp, angular face, with wild, jet black hair. He has lost an eye, or effects as much, and wears an eye patch over it, sewn with rubies to give the impression of an eye even on his patch. The remaining eye is wild and bright blue, betraying his inner storm. His arms and legs are toned and scarred from constant combat, and its visible that he is competent with a weapon.

His female form is similar, though less stout and more fit, as if she’s trained her entire life. her hair is long, wild and black as well, though unlike his, is not bound in a ponytail, but a leather diadem set with ice blue sapphires. Her features are broad, and wide, while his are tight and angular, though they both have only a single eye and scars to show both their temperament and their experience.

Warform: The Subtlety and power of a storm is embodied in the warform of Gestril, that of a rhinoceros. Strong, Powerful and leading the charge, this beast is composed of storm clouds and lightning bolts. Gestril may be the most powerful warrior in the Pantheon, and all who oppose him know it. His form underscores that, a horn of solid and complete Ice, and eyes of churning rage. Even though almost all of the gods and accursed take enormous forms for their warforms, Gestril is an exception even to them, towering over many of the warforms of others and powerful enough to never be attacked head on.

Personality: Gestril represents the best and worst in nature all at once. He is unforgiving and capricious as a summer storm, but he also does what is in the best interest of all, even though it may be terrifying and dangerous. Gestril is also the most brazen fighter of all the pantheon, having fought numerous duels with the Gods of War, having come out on top each time. He attributes this to the primal fury and natural skill in his person, citing that no training in the world can overcome the power of natural abilities. He is wild, strong and bombastic, and extremely opinionated. To contrast, however, he also is peaceful when unprovoked, content to wait out life and combat in idle time contemplating and listening. Once aroused to combat, he is implacable, but leave him alone and he is as dangerous as a child.

Teachings: The teachings of the Storm Lord center on a single theme:respect. Though we may not all share the same beliefs and goals, a lot can be said about simply respecting the people in the rest of the world. However, in extreme contrast, they also teach very little forgiveness: Those who break the respect granted to them are forever remembered as betrayers and the lost. There is little room in the heart for those who have proven themselves unworthy. As a Nature Aspect, he also teaches reverence and respect of nature, though in his case it is almost universally the weather. Storms, both of violent lightning and strong rain, show the Storm Gods displeasure and his wrath. What little there is to be done other than hunker down and prove your strength against the might and rage of the storms.

Abode: Gestril lives in the Tower of Reverberations, a massive tower in the center of the Marches that stretches into the sky and touches the clouds above, Though he does not train an army, per se, his followers live and reside in at the foot of the tower, constantly in the eye of an enormous storm.

Clergy: The Followers of the storm are strong, self-willed people who lead the societies they are in through deeds and words both. They strive to set an example to all the people who encounter them as unforgiving of treachery and lenient to the natural forces of man. While weakness is to be expected, complete submission to it is not. Self Reliance, strength in the face of adversity and the willingness to admit that not everything is within your power are the basic tenants of the church of Gestril. The natural way of things is unpredictable and terrifying. One can only stand against that nature for so long before they become either weak, insane. There is a path between being overrun, and losing it completely, and the Stormlords of Gestril are here to guide.

Knightly Orders: The Scions of Thunder are a small, loosely organized group of dedicated servants of Gestril, Lightning Mages who seek a greater oneness with the sound and energy of the storm. Deemed insane by many more logical people, the Scions seek out the roughest and most powerful storms to bask in the revelations they bring. Dedicated to seeking the knowledge of the universe within the dark hearts and calm eyes of the storm, they are gaining every stronger and more powerful understanding of the natural weapons of lightning and thunder, harnessing them for their own strength and power.

Clerical Attire/colors: Gestrils priests wear dark gray and ice blue when they are not in combat, wielding the spear and shield of their patron. Almost all of their robes and clothes alike are the same storm-gray with a hem and trim of the cold, clear blue. Emblazoned on their back is the eye of Gestril, the sigil of their lord and the master of storms.

Followers: Rogues, Warriors and wizards all follow the Path of storms, with some local druids and priests following the Lord of Lightning as well.

Other Titles: The Iron Mistress, The Dread Tactician, Lady Law, The Enforcer

Alignment: LN

Weapon: Ironbound Staff (Redactor)

Major Domains: Laws, Plans, Order

Minor Domains: Preperation, Tactics, Logistics

Totem Animal: Ant

Holy Symbol: A simple black and red quill, trailing a blue line in more exotic versions

Favored Appearances: Oranna is a strict and unforgiving being, and her chosen forms represent exactly that. While she prefers her female form slightly, she takes whichever form is most utilitarian for the event.

He Female form is both beautiful and rigid, unapproachable in almost every fashion, she knows each and every formality and nuance to the society she is in and will brook no deviation from it. Her hair is black, tinged with plenty of dark, dark blue, and it is formed completely in conformity with the current fashions and trends. She it tall, generally speaking, with cold blue eyes and angular features.

Her male form is similarly strict, with very similar features, including hair, eyes and height. His demeanor is pragmatic and standoffish, while hers is more factual and leading. His features, where hers a sharp, tend to be broad and flat, unassuming in the least.

Warform: The Warform of the Goddess of Laws is that of a Queen Ant, towering over her armies marching in perfect unison and fighting with precision and form. Composed of frothing waves that somehow manage to keep their form, with pincers and wings made of razor sharp ice. She can spit a blast of icy water that is so cold it manages to freeze everything it touches in place where it contacts them. Her form is so cold that where she treads, pools of frigid water gather and harden as the land freezes solid.

Personality: There is little of forgiveness or mercy in the being or Oranna, and ignorance is no excuse for not following the rules of the land. She stoutly opposes chaos in all its forms, and seeks to organize, lead and police everyone she can. Though she follows the laws to the letter and form, she grants mercy where there is leniency in the law for it. she sees no reason to punish simply for punishments sake; she is no tyrant. There are limits, however, to what little tolerance she has, and even a second offense brooks the most severe and devastating of consequences. Unwillingly breaking the law must be punished, but willing defiance is intolerable. She also takes great care in planning and executing any form of project, from the smallest of barn raising to the greatest of all invasions. While she objects to revolt and revolution, as one should work within the system if there is to be change, she finds no problem with invasion. It is a lawful and strict capacity of any nation to invade and conquer another, provided it has not pledged that it will not. The Laws tell you what you may not do, and anything outside of that is by its very definition, outside the law and legal.

Teachings: The Church of Oranna teaches the strongest and most obedient of subjugation to the laws of the land. It also teaches that within those laws are the way to happiness and strength. However, one must not only live by the laws, but they must be an ordered and thoughtful person. They must strive to make the best decision, given the circumstances, and little should be left to chance. Chance and Luck lead to chaos and the unpredictable, and that is anathema to Lady Orannas being. Plan out each day, follow the plan, make your life a bastion of order and symbol for others to follow. Live within the law at all times, and become a leader in your community and your family. Lead, when necessary, but follow when commanded.

Abode: Oranna lives in the Basilica of Edicts, an enormous building on a cliff overlooking an ocean of mercury on the western flank of the Paltonarchs territory in the Iron Marches. It is here that she leads her armies against the invading forces of the accursed and where her endless army trains and drills

Clergy: The church of Orannas priests are highly educated and sought after judges and barristers. They know the laws of their land, and sometimes others, in extreme depth, and have pledged to complete impartiality when dealing with the law. Additionally, they can be sought out for assistance when it comes to traversing legal matters, including laying claim to land, writing up a will, and bringing justice to lawbreakers. Sometimes, however, Nobles and aristocracy who believe themselves to be above the law find them to be a tedious and tiresome bunch, always telling them what they can and cannot do. Many households have a priest of Oranna as an adviser but not all of them listen.

Knightly Orders: Laws exist for people to follow, and order is best maintained by those who follow the laws. However, not everyone understands this concept. The Lexions, Orannas tactical and military arm, are the enforcers of this concept. This Order has two branches, the Arbiters and the Mitigators. The Arbiters are called upon to lead a confrontation with groups of unruly or rebellious peoples, and will teach the forces of those lawfully in charge how to fight against and defeat a rebellious mass. The Mitigators simply do the work themselves. They will not rush into battle, but they will simply hunt down the lawbreakers to the end of the world. There is no place that they can hide, and no amount of time that can pass before justice is met Once the contract has been signed, there is no escaping their proscribed punishment.

Clerical Attire/colors: Oranna’s colors are deep blue-grays and vivid whites, able to stand in contrast to one another. The robes of her followers are adorned on the left side of their chest, slightly higher than center, with her holy symbol. All of her priests, called Adjudicators, have pages and pages dedicated to the prescribed clothes that a priest must wear, how and when they wear them, and how to cut and take care of them. Resultingly, they present a uniform front to the world in their long robes, deep sleeves and great hoods.

Followers: Most followers of Oranna are planners and judges, with many great tacticians pledging that they owe all of their capacity to their fealty to Oranna. Generals, however, are more apt to be a follower of a war god. Some mages, and the rare warrior will dedicate themselves to the Iron Mistress, but most prefer a more lenient master.

Holy Symbol: A single large green swamp-bubble with two smaller, popping ones to either side.

Favored Appearances: Tremid rarely sets foot outside of the Endless Moor, but when he does walk among the mortals, he does so in a corpulent form. Both his male and female forms are grossly overweight, and seem as if they couldn’t possibly walk, yet still manage to do so.

His male form is that of a particularly disgusting elf. His hair is cut short and greasy black, sticking to his balding head at unnatural angles, completely unkempt. He wears a voluminous deep green robe tied at his waist with a single knot on a disgusting yellow cord. His face is a blotchy red, and punctuated with angry pustules and boils. His hands and feet, uncovered both, are blistered and swollen masses, fat and twisted. He carries on himself a seemingly inexhaustible purse of gold, and never has any shortage of people willing to do his bidding for a bit of coin, which he offers constantly.

His female form is no better, an unbelievably round and boisterous Dwarf. Loud and gregarious, she talks endlessly, when she is not eating. Her blond hair is long and knotted, having never been taken care of. Her face has deep set, beady eyes and a round, angry red nose. She wears the same robe and single knotted rope, with the overflowing purse of gold as well. In this form, though, Tremid feels more bold, and makes passes at anyone, male, female or child, that passes by.

Warform: Unlike many other gods, Tremid’s warform is that of many different, smaller forms. He takes the form of a swarm of buzzing, biting, stinging flies of all shapes and sizes. The swarm exists within a biting sandstorm, flaying flesh and blistering soft, exposed organs. They very in form and shape, but many of them, once killed are of gems and stones.

Personality: Tremid is slotfull and greedy to the greater degree than any other god. He is needy and determined, looking for every chance to break down, corrupt and destroy others plans and lives. He exuberantly embraced the rebellion, and was one of the Black Pacts most ardent supporters. He loves the company of others, and while he rarely will leave the Endless Moor, he is constantly throwing lavish parties and inviting many of the Accursed, and sometimes even the Paltonarchs, though they never come. He serves the most vile and terrifying foods alongside the greatest dishes that can be created, tending towards those meals that are fermented, rotting and spoiled alongside fungus and mushroom dishes.

Teachings: Tremid, as the Accursed of Decay, teaches that nothing is stable or permanent, and that all of it must eventually decay, rot and spoil. In many cases, that means embracing the spoilage and making do with it. Scavenging for food, looting trash heaps and other peoples refuse and living in squalor are all concepts that Tremid espouses. He teaches, as well, that the same end is destined for gold and wealth. This, he says, is the driving reason to collect and spend as much and as conspicuously as possible. Gold should be used to acquire those things that make life better for you in the short run, or worse for others. Delectable delicacies, important relics, and genuine art are all things to be coveted and consumed. It is never enough, though, as he never teaches this followers to look forward or protect their belongings, and eventually the priceless painting or delicious food rots away and needs to be replaced with another.

Abode: The Endless Moor is exactly that, a giant fetid swamp in the rear of the accursed territory. It is here that, under the black, reeking mud that he has built his warrens. Nothing here is permanent, and he constantly has his dedicated demons and patrons rebuilding and shoring up his ever crumbling walls.

Cultists: Among the Accursed Cultists, few are despised as much as the cultists of Tremid. Where they walk, food stores spoil, plants rot on the vine, and children are stillborn. Wounds, both emotional and physical fester in the presence of the rotlords chosen. To that end, they often form cabals of their own, congregating outside of society, using proxies to enable them to corrupt and foster decay wherever needed.

Clerical Attire/colors: Dark green and slimy browns are the colors of Tremid, and they are worn in loose, voluminous robes. It is a point of pride for his followers to not bath, clean or take care of themselves in any way, eating everything they want and not caring about the consequences. Almost everything they touch ends up covered in grease, sweat and puss of some sort.

Followers: Rarely do the followers of Tremid conform to any sort of categorization. Lonely vagabonds with no where to live or the desperate, deprived 10th son of a nobleman or worthless exiles with an axee to grind have all turned to the worship of Tremid.

Favored Appearances: Kara generally favors a female form, but has no problems taking a male form as well, if it suits her. Though she takes on whatever form is needed to accomplish her goals, she has some specific traits she leans to when on the prime. Her female form is homely and nondescript, though pretty enough to catch the eye of those men or women she feels she needs to seduce for a night or longer. She is unremarkable when she desires and can burn in your mind when she finds it useful. Her hair is mid length, and often a light brown, and she dresses modestly, though not poor. She wears no jewelry or other distinctive markings, though she does carry her dagger wherever she goes.

Her male form is one that stands out and gets attention, though not in a good way. He has dark hair and eyes, with a close cut beard of the same shade. He fumbles about along his way, seeming to alternately limp and stumble forwards. He keeps his eyes down, his clothes plain, and his voice low.

Warform: A venomous serpent composed of whirling stone and ice, her warform slides forward into battle. Unlike most serpents, hers has a barb on the tail dripping with venom as well as fangs as large around as a mans thigh made of lightning. Her main form of combat is that of a swift strike from either her fangs or her barb, and she is equally deadly with both.

Personality: Kara is an unrepentant thief with little morals with endless lies pouring from her mouth. Yet she alone may have saved the Paltonarchs from a miserable end by personally slaying Ferosh, betraying the young rebels and turning herself in to the Paltonarch leadership. Though there is little to believe about her, her loyalty to the cause has never wavered. She has personally slain a number of Accursed, and continues to deceive and trick her way into and out of their camps, gathering information and slaying vital assets. She is prickly about her status, and while she is convinced she took the correct action in betraying the Young Rebels, she does not feel that she is truly welcome at all times.

Teachings: Kara is truly a dark teacher, one of the great vile minds in the Paltonarch ranks. She teaches subversive and dangerous lessons to her followers: Lie, Cheat and Steal: What you can take is yours by right. To build upon that, she also teaches that ones life is always greater than that of any others, and preserving your own life in any way necessary is the very basis of existence. She preaches skill and honing your craft, but she also teaches that it is better to be lucky than good. Finally, she teaches not to be content with your position in life. always seek to ursurp and overtake those with better status and or means than you. Take what you can, and leave nothing behind.

Abode: Kara lives in the Darkened Deep, a labyrinth of tunnels leading to a great underground keep carved completely out of obsidian. Its dark, dank and full of snakes. From here, Kara works with the darker side of the Paltonarchs war, leading surgical strikes and deep reconnaissance as needed.

Clergy: Kara has few clergy that worship her and spread the word as she is deemed, while a worthwhile asset, treacherous and dangerous. Those who do keep her faith are tolerated as long as they do not break the laws, a tall order, or sometimes, when they are the law.

Knightly Orders: While the order would not be considered Knightly, Kara does have a sect of extremely devoted followers. They call themselves the Adders Fangs, and they are assassins that seek out and slay the richest and most wealthy beings that they can find. While many times that means killing powerful merchants and great lords, every once in a while it will entail rounding up a group of like minded folk and heading into a dungeon to plunder a lichs tomb or to slay a powerful dragon and collect its hoard. These dark and sinister people are also for hire – For the right price, and have been known to end whole wars before they can start for their clients.

Clerical Attire/colors: Clerics of Kara are known as the faceless, as they are all sworn to wear a black, opaque cloth mask. It is not known whether or not they can see through it, however, as some seem extremely clumsy, yet others can be said to “look” you right in the eye. They wear navy blue shirts and trousers, and tend to be armed both with a standard short sword for defense, but also a curved, snakeheaded dagger is always on their person.

Followers: Assassins, thieves and thugs are among Karas most reverent followers, but there are also wizards, warriors and strong men who follower her as well.